You Show me your Scars, and I'll Show you my Gears
by GothicCheshire
Summary: And sometimes, when we accept them, we aren't as able to run from our past as we thought we would be. When the time comes, fear him. Do it. Or else you will by the end of it.
1. What

_This is an idea that is absolutely insane (possibly more insane than 'Lost' for those who have read it). I'm going to attempt the impossible. I'm going to steampunk Star Trek. So, naturally, this is an AU universe. I do hope you can bear with me here as I weave this rather strange/complex story before your eyes. I am also very very aware of how...out there this idea is. The thing is...the idea actually came to me in a dream, and if my subconscious actually wants it written that bad? Well... I better listen. I hope you can enjoy this crazy idea and will give it a chance no matter how strange it is, the style is also rather experimental at the moment... Enjoy, I guess..._  
...

The first memory he had was of falling from a great height after someone pushed him to his death. The second thing he remembered was pain. The third thing he remembered was blood, and then there was nothing. The world was blank, and he was no more.

But that was not to be.

He woke up, but it was not the same; he was not the same. He remembered staring up at the man that he had once called father, and seeing desperation mixed with fear in eyes that were usually so calm, so emotionless. _Everything that he had aspired to be._ His vision was strange; everything seemed sharper, closer, and it hurt his brain to see things in such a manner, a headache splitting his skull almost instantly at the sound of his father's voice.

"Spock, can you hear me?" His face was expressionless, but his eyes, his eyes...

He could hear him, he could see him, _he wished he could do neither_. Something was wrong, something was terribly terribly wrong. Where was Mother, what was going on, _why couldn't he move_?

"I can." Was that his voice? It did not sound like what he remembered...not at all. Everything was different; his body felt...strange, mismatched. He was cold. "What happened; what is this place?"

"You were pushed, off a building. Your body was broken upon impact."

"Then why am I not dead?"

"Because they fixed you."

Illogical, illogical, that was what it was; it made no sense. Why bring someone back to life when they should be dead; why keep them there when they would face a fate that was...what was he facing? What did they do? What did they replace?

He struggled to turn his head, and locked eyes with a mirror that showed something that made bile rise in his throat _or was it oil and steam_? Copper, copper and metal fitted together in the shape of what had once been his body. An arm, both legs, his chest, possibly up his back, nearly half of his head. He felt his heart pounding in his side, _but was it his heart, what truly made him alive, did he even live_? He felt his lungs expand as he gasped for air, brown eyes fixed on the mirror, eyes that hid gears, pointed ears that were useless.

"Son, I apologize. I was unable to stop them. They believed that to save the Ambassador's son from death..."

"Is this not death?"

The brown eyes closed, and he stared up at that emotionless face, and called it lies.

"No. You live, you are."

"But I am not your son."

Sarek stared at him, brown eyes reflecting something else. Loathing. Amongst the fear the love the confusion the fear, there was loathing, and it was directed at him. "No, you are not."

_To deny the truth is illogical, and yet for some reason he found it painful_.

"I am sorry."

"Do not apologize for what you cannot control."

"Where is my mother?"

"Your mother is adjusting to the idea. She will enter when she can. I shall leave you to rest."

_He would not rest for years._

Amanda entered the room twenty minutes later, _twenty minutes, thirty seconds, fifteen milliseconds_ and Spock found that he was unable to look at her.

"Spock...look at me..." Her voice was soft, pleading, and her son found himself doing so, staring into the eyes that he found there, something making him ache _sadness, loss_. "Oh, Spock..." Suddenly she was crying, and he found himself reaching up reflexively, only for his eyes to fall on copper plated hands, gears ticking softly, soft whirring evident, and curled his hand into a fist. _At one point in time he would have studied it_.

"Mother..."

"I'm so sorry, baby... I'm so sorry."

"What am I?"

"You are mine, and you always shall be. I love you, Spock. Never forget that."

It never crossed his mind that that would be the first thing that he forgot.

She reached out, and he allowed her to hug him, only to find that he could not feel it. He couldn't feel the warmth of her skin, feel her chest rise and fall with her breath, could not feel her hair, her clothing. There was nothing. A small part realized that her arms were wrapped around him, but there was no indication of it.

"You can't go home, baby..."

He could not, and he knew that. He could not let his mother stay behind; he could not let her stay with him and not live her own life. He was dangerous, unnatural _something never before attempted, something that should never have been_. He watched her leave, and a part of him broke.

Half-Vulcan blood gave him the ability of superior speed, strength, knowledge, and movement, but it also made him harder to control. He was angry, he was bitter; the ones that did this to him treated him like a toy, and he was not appreciative. They were not people who could order him around. He was done with it.

He soon found himself locked away, where the only things left to him were memories.

Soon they too slipped away, and he found himself forgetting his mother, forgetting her love for him.

Soon he was nothing but a monster in his own mind, _and he had always been so_.

...

Jim shifted in his chair, half his mind focused on the conversation he would soon be having with the Ambassador, and the other listening to the grumbling voice of his friend, Dr. Leonard H. 'Bones' McCoy. He was unsure what he was talking about, but finally his fidgety nerves got the better of him. He stood up and began to pace, examining various objects in the room. A star map was placed against one wall, and he examined it, moving on through each trinket, each globe, each detail and design. Everything was highly glossed, everything was extravagant, everything was expensive.

This was why McCoy swore viciously when Jim accidentally sent a book to the floor. Paper, honest to God paper, and it had fallen on the ground, and flopped open.

There was a hole cut into the pages. He stared, eyes wide as he looked over a small copper device. Making anything out of copper was strange, usually it was made of brass, it was easier to forge, easier to mold, but copper? Ignoring McCoy, his curiosity piqued, he slowly bent over and picked the book up, reaching in and plucking the device up. A moment later and, rolling his eyes at a further threat from his best friend, he pressed the button.

He raised his eyebrows at the sight of the bookcase rolling out of the way.

Finally, McCoy stopped talking.

"Well...that's interesting."

"'Interesting', the bookshelf's a goddamn secret entrance and he calls it 'interesting'," McCoy grumbled.

"Got a better word?" Jim asked, slowly taking a step into the dust- and cobweb-infested area, booted foot clacking against the stone.

McCoy sneered, "Yeah, how about 'don't'?"

"That's boring. Besides..."

"Jim, we shouldn't be doing this..."

"Then I'll do it; you wait here, cover for me."

"...This is a bad idea..."

"Yeah, well...needs to be done."

"If we get in trouble it's your fault."

"Understood, McCoy." With that Jim flashed him a grin and walked into the passageway.

While he was unsurprised, he was admittedly a little nervous when the entranceway shut behind him. The immediate light that flared up made him relax a little. He would have relaxed even more if the damn light hadn't been red.

He finally came to a wide open area, the stone floor giving way to a very worn and faded carpet. The area in front of him was surrounded by bookshelves, stacks of paper, pens, and there, right in the middle, sitting at a desk, was the hunched-over figure of a person.

But he could not get to him; there were bars, heavy bars that he recognized as ones that had been made form a metal that was deemed unbreakable. _What he did not know was the reason for that was in that room._ He reached out, fingers curled onto the bars, eyes locked onto that figure. Then the rest of the room slowly came into focus. Books and papers yellowed with age, a carpet that was molding, and walls that were dripping and wet.

He was looking at a prison. The person sitting at that desk was dressed in clothes that he recognized as both old, and pockmarked with holes. They were thin, so very thin, and he could see trembling. Kirk was many things, a genius, a tolerant man, a captain, but he often had the ability to be quite…stupid.

In a moment of recklessness and remembrance of a people that had been locked up unjustly for years, he found a way to open the bars. An iron wheel was on the wall to his right, just out of reach should someone reach through the bars, a very cruel sort of teasing that made him frown. His fingers gripped the wheel, and with a grunt of effort he began to slowly turn it, the bars creaking and groaning as it opened after years of being shut.

_Finally, it was open._

Jim felt his heart thud against his ribs as he slowly but surely took slow step after echoing step towards that figure, eyes constantly fixed on his back. Finally he was right behind him, and with slow shaking fingers he stretched his hand out, only to find it grasped by a cold band of metal, and find himself pulled down to face something out of his worst nightmares.

It was in that moment that James Tiberius Kirk did something that he would both regret and deny years afterward. He screamed.  
...

_Thanks for reading, should be more reasonably soon._


	2. Makes

McCoy heard the echoing shriek from behind the bookcase, and the worry and irritation that had been building ballooned into a mounting wail of 'GODDAMMIT, JIM!' that echoed through his head, and almost came out of his mouth. He stomped over to the bookcase, ready to tear that book out and pull the remote out, only to have the door swing open to his left. He changed his stomp to a step and reached out, skimming the shelves with a finger, examining what was there. He was used to slipping into a role, a few years ago he wouldn't have believed he could do it, but then he met Jim, and everything changed.

"Doctor McCoy, I presume?"

McCoy looked up from the bookcase, meeting the eyes of the aide to a Vulcan ambassador that he was honestly not all that interested in meeting. "That's me. You'll have to excuse my captain; he'll be back shortly."

"Of course; while we wait, would you like a drink?"

McCoy sighed, a small mumbled phrase of "nothin' stronger than water, I'm sure…" escaping his mouth before he looked up and with a slightly pinched grin opened his mouth to reply, only to let his already open mouth flop at the sight of the Vulcan opening a liquor cabinet.

"We find that humans often wish to have a drink of something 'stronger than water'. We have allowed this, provided that you drink an amount that will not be an impairment to your mental faculties," he said simply, allowing McCoy to choose which he wanted before pouring a decent amount and handing it to him. "Will your captain be here shortly? The Ambassador does not wish to be kept waiting."

McCoy was very careful to keep his eyes from flicking over to the bookcase, keeping them locked on the brown emotionless ones in front of him. "I expect him to. If you wish we can start the meetin' without him. As second in command I handle most of this sort of thing anyway; I understand if the Ambassador would rather talk to the Captain, but he'll likely be detained."

The Vulcan was silent for a moment, before inclining his head. "I will inform him of these developments. I believe that he would rather talk to the Captain."

"I understand that, and I do apologize on his behalf. He's a busy man, with plenty of claims for his business."

"Understood." The Vulcan inclined his head and slowly left the room, McCoy taking a precursory sip of his drink as the door shut.

_One second, two seconds, three seconds, four…_

He slammed the drink onto the desk, the alcohol sloshing out onto the table, but he barely noticed, his eyes focused on the bookcase, finger tugging the spine and the book falling into his outstretched hand. McCoy flipped it open and pulled the copper device out, pushing the button and allowing the door to slide open, before flipping the book closed and shoving it back into the bookcase, without the device. After a moment of hesitation he scribbled a quick 'Apologies, things didn't go as planned, if we can, we'll get back to you' onto a spare piece of paper, and placed it on the table. After that he turned and ran into the hidden passageway, clicking the device and letting the door slide shut behind him as he charged down the hall, his only focus on getting to where his captain and friend was.

He froze in the entranceway of what looked like the most elaborate prison he had ever seen, his eyes locked on James Tiberius Kirk as he sat on the floor and chatted at something he couldn't believe. Sitting on a chair and looking down at him, fingers laced together and head resting upon that, brown eyes boring into the man as he waved his arm lazily and talked and carried on, was something that he had been sure would never, and should never, exist.

"Fascinating. The world has changed from when I was in it." McCoy jolted at the voice that left the thing's mouth, eyes widening, only to narrow.

"It's been ten years since your…accident; it's not much, but it's enough," Jim replied with a hesitant pause.

"Kirk, is the man standing in the entranceway a friend of yours?" It said, and McCoy jumped as two piercing brown eyes focused on his.

Jim twisted around quickly, and grinned, an exclamation of "Bones!" leaving his lips. He stood up then, beaming at him and walking forward until he was next to him, bringing his hand down onto that shoulder and shaking it happily…and then his face fell. "Don't tell me…"

"We missed the cut…"

Jim was silent for a moment and then a frown slowly tugged his mouth down. "At the moment, I could care less. McCoy, that guy over there is Spock. He's the Ambassador's _son_. He won't tell me which Ambassador…but it shouldn't be that hard to guess." The stress he put on one little word made McCoy pause, blink, and then his eyes widened.

He immediately switched his gaze to the admittedly filthy state of the man before him, his eyes flickering from him, to the walls, to the bars in the ceiling and finally back to the copper plating and gears. "Him?"

"Him…McCoy, he's been here for ten years."

"…Jim…he's…kinda…" McCoy met blue eyes that held one of the darkest gazes he had ever seen from his friend. That look made him hesitate slightly before turning to face 'Spock' completely. He sighed, and slowly walked forward, hand sliding into his white pressed shirt and pulling out a large monocle, gears ticking on the edges and a slow changing of the clear glass to a red color as he flipped a switch on the side of it and held it up slowly, making sure the thing in front of him saw every movement and knew what he was up to.

Spock stared at him coolly, eyes reflecting nothing more or less than complete and total disdain, a feeling that McCoy freely shared with him. He placed the monocle in position on his eye, and blinked as the images focused, glaring slightly at what he saw as he ran it up and down the thing in front of him. Finally he removed the device, flicking the switch and putting it back into his shirt.

He circled the thing in front of him slowly, eyes tracing every inch he could see of it before looking up to Jim and flicking his eyes to the side. Jim recognized the signal and the two of them walked over to the map in the far corner, the thing remaining in its seat in the middle of the room.

"Jim…what the hell is that?"

"That's a half-Vulcan named Spock…he's been changed by something unfortunate and imprisoned unjustly."

"Do you know how changed?"

"It looks like it's just the surface."

"It's not."

"…How much?"

"Jim, near as I can tell, nearly everything was modified in some way. It has no digestive tract, no stomach…it's replaced by somethin' else; its lungs are altered, its nose, its ears…hell, its brain's been altered. I don't know how its runnin'; all I know is that it is. It's just…insane."

"But not _his_ heart, Bones, am I right?" Kirk emphasized the word with narrowed eyes, and McCoy sighed before gesturing wildly.

"Dammit, Jim, a heart is a heart- it's muscle and sinew, flesh and blood. That's not the important thing- the important thing is what's _inside_ that heart. That's what counts and you don't know what's inside that heart. _It's_ been in here for ten years, no outside contact, nothin'…you can't save everyone, Jim; please…don't try. Not this time."

Kirk stared at him, and his eyes were flaming. "McCoy, there are very very few times when I tell you to shut up. This is one of them. You don't know anything about him…"

"Neither do you!" McCoy yelled. When Spock flinched, he hesitated, flicking his gaze over to it for a moment before looking back to Jim. "How long have you been talkin' to it? Ten, twelve minutes? That's not enough time to know anythin'; that's not time to do anythin'. You know nothin' about that thing, and the fact that you think you do… Dammit, Jim, what do you propose we do? Just waltz out of here with that thing? It'd be noticed immediately; you can't hide that, Jim. And I think they'd notice it's gone if you do. Please…don't risk your career, possibly your entire life for this…thing that you don't know."

Jim paused, and slowly sighed through his nose, blue eyes closing before opening. "Bones, I can't leave him here."

"Why?"

"What the hell do you mean, 'why'? This…this is a prison! It's unjust and it's wrong; the only reason he's here is because he's different, because they changed him. It wasn't his decision and it wasn't his fault. Bones, I can't let him stay here."

"Where do you propose we take him? He's gonna stick out like a sore thumb…no." He paused, his eyes fixed and widening at the sight of the slightly guilty, slightly hesitant expression on Kirk's face. "No, no, no no no nonononono. I know that look, I know that look; we are _not_ taking him to work on the _Enterprise_. We can't do that. He'll be noticed; we work for Starfleet, and _they_ _will notice_. We'll get kicked out of the job; it's too risky. Besides, what qualifications can he possibly have?"

"Bones, I've been talking to him. Do you see all those books? Do you see all those papers? I flicked through them, I listened to him. Bones, he knows more about science than Chekov. He's Vulcan, Bones, _Vulcan_, and with that comes an eidetic memory, not to mention every sense he has is amplified to the max. Some of it even more amplified than a normal Vulcan. He's exactly what we need, Bones. And once he proves himself, Starfleet will be more than happy to accept him. You have to see it."

"Jim…this is a bad idea, a Very Bad Idea. Hell, I might even go as far as to say it's the worst idea you've ever had…"

"Bones, you might as well accept; my mind's made up. We're getting him out of here."

"What happens when they notice?"

"They also notice his escape route that he made," Jim replied, grinning at him as he moved over to the wall and pushed aside a giant set of framed blueprints. McCoy noticed with a feeling of dread that they were of the thing sitting behind them. "Bones, he's going to get out either way, but if we take him with us…if he does turn out to be a crazy psycho we can take care of him, we can help him. Please, Bones, we need to save him. We need to help him. I'm positive that the only thing he needs is a chance. We can give it to him."

McCoy was silent, glaring, eyes closing finally as he huffed a sigh through his nose in exasperation. "Fine. Your mind's made up; I can't stop ya."

"Thanks, Bones. But we need to disguise him."

"That much is obvious."

"Got any ideas?"

"Hell, Jim, that's your specialty, not mine. You're already making me accept that he's comin' with us whatever I do, and now you're tryin' to get me to play dress-up with him. Hell, you want a disguise, dress him up as a mercenary…" McCoy waved it off, only to see the way Jim's eyes lit up, and frowned. "Dammit, Jim, that was a joke."

"It's perfect, Bones! Everything they wear is specially made for hiding everything, faces, hands, everything. It's perfect."

"Look, I'll grant you that we've worked with them before, and the crew are used to it, but even if that's the case, how are you gonna get the stuff anyway?"

Jim hesitated, his eyes flicking over to his ever-present bag and McCoy blinked, stared, and then turned to look at him with a frown. "I hate you, you know that?"

"Funny; I thought you were my best friend."

"I am, but not when you're endangerin' your crew and your life…"

"Bones, trust me, please. I wouldn't do that."

"Not on purpose."

With that final statement Jim paused, locking eyes with the hazel in front of him before turning back, picking the bag up and walking over to the thing sitting on the chair, McCoy watching with his arms crossed.

He could only hope that Jim was right once again, because if he wasn't right, they were all going to die.


	3. Us

_Yet another chapter for you, I hope you enjoy it, and I'm sorry for the wait, but I started school today, and so there are a couple things that needed to be taken care of. It's extra long though, so that should count for something. Do understand that I'm doing my best to combine steampunk with the technology we're presented with, so...I do hope it works. It's a challenge, I must say. May it  
be worth it.  
..._

McCoy watched with his face in a pulled into a tight frown as Jim opened the bag that held what had been the Captain's undercover wear and begin talking the thing through what it was, and how it was worn.

White long-sleeved button-up shirt, black vest, black-shin length coat and black pants, complete with black gloves…and one very important element, a shiny, black and copper trimmed, elegant gasmask, the most important piece in the entire ensemble. Each and every piece had been picked out by the doctor for his friend, only to find out that it was too big for him.

Jim was larger than life, and the doctor often forgot that.

He had grumbled a quiet, "I'm a doctor, not a tailor," but Jim had known how hard he had worked on trying to get some of those things, so he had worn the gasmask. He had been going to get it tailored, but they had never gotten the chance, mainly due to the fact that they were called in to the meeting…that they missed anyway. McCoy nearly growled at the realization that the clothes he had got for his friend would be used by the thing in front of him.

Jim had been made to attempt something that would endanger both his family and his crew, so McCoy had set out to outfit him in what had been termed Mercenary wear. Mercenaries lived a regular life under the mask and outfit, the sudden appearance of either causing the rest to give them a wide berth.

They were unchallenged by the general assembly, due to both the fact that they were widely recognized as the best at what they did (and what they did wasn't nice), and the fact that they were often unseen when they were working.

If they were seen, they weren't on the job.

McCoy watched silently as 'Spock' began taking the clothes out and pawing through them, single flesh hand working to unbutton the holey and stained shirt he was wearing while the other picked up the fresh clean one. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of yet more clockwork stitched to flesh, once again to vanish under clothing. There was a moment of hesitation and then the pants followed, held up by a black belt.

More Vulcan, less monster, but McCoy knew it was all hidden beneath the surface, his eyes narrowing as the jacket and gloves hid the rest of his body. Jim grinned at him, clapping him on the shoulder, likely telling him how well it fit. Kid had no personal space and little to no knowledge of proper decorum. A small part of him was sneering and snarling at the fact that the clothes that had been too big for his captain were somehow just the right size for the thing.

Jim made him lean down slightly and gently and carefully began pulling the gasmask on him. McCoy watched the last hint of the monster vanish and growled. It was going to be on the _Enterprise_ and no one would ever know.

Jim stood back slightly, placed a hand to his chin and finally grinned at him. "You look awesome, very menacing. Bones, you have really good taste. This getup's able to both intimidate and look very classy at the same time."

"That was the point." McCoy watched quietly as the half Vulcan turned, the black and brass trimmed gasmask focusing on him. The filter was silent, the breathing kept as quiet as possible, you were no good at your job if you were heard. He stared into the empty glass eyes of the thing and a single thought crossed his mind: _what did he let Jim do?_

"Well…that's it then, shall we go?" Jim asked with a grin, and waved them over. He paused for a moment, examining the blueprints behind their glass, and finally broke the glass and retrieved them, folding them up expertly and sticking it in the now mostly empty bag. "Never know when this sort of thing may come in handy…"

"Indeed."

Once again, the filter proved its worth, the word as normal sounding as it would be without the mask. They paused, looked into the passageway and began their slow wandering way down it. As it was made in a hurry, the edges were lopsided and there were parts where the roof was close to collapsing, but the hastily constructed escape route looked as though it would hold, so long as they did not attempt to touch the walls.

There was no light, and the musty, acrid smell of earth filled their nostrils as they continued down it, each of them as close to the other as possible without touching. Finally, they saw light. Jim went first and in his excitement he managed to run into a large metal _thing_ that doubled as a door. It made a strange and hollow 'clunk' sound, and Jim cursed, his hands pressed to his nose. Spock hurriedly moved the thing, which turned out to be a dumpster, and let McCoy have more light in order to check for blood.

"I should have warned you about the door."

"No, it's fine, my nose isn't broken or bleeding…I should have remembered that you've only had yourself to be around, you're also Vulcan, talking to yourself isn't logical."

"…Indeed." _He always talked to himself, reading out loud, commenting on nothing in particular; when the only one there was yourself you had to do something to pass the time. The man named Kirk was right, it wasn't Vulcan, but he felt like the part of him that had been Vulcan had also been killed long ago. He merely had yet to stop moving._

McCoy noticed the pause, even if Jim didn't, and his eyes narrowed slightly, following them up into the alleyway. It was practically empty, minus the large dumpster, and the three of them stepped out onto the cobblestones, boot heels clicking cheerfully as Jim led them into the main road, grinning at the familiar sights.

McCoy however, only had eyes for 'Spock'. He walked briskly, following close behind Jim, and then he noticed something he hadn't before. The head was moving slightly, eyes hidden behind glass likely spinning almost in their desire to get a look at absolutely everything around him. McCoy hesitated, his eyes focusing on that, the almost innocent way he moved closer to Jim (if anyone who moved closer to _him_ could be considered innocent) and narrowed his eyes.

Ten years. Ten years of being locked in a cell with only yourself for company…when did it start? The man didn't look any older than somewhere in his later twenties, but that would make him either in his thirties…or… He considered. There was no technology available on any planet that he was aware of that had that kind of ability, to keep a man running off clockwork and steam. This meant that there was a possibility that they also had an ability to prematurely age someone. Was it possible that he had been younger?

He narrowed his eyes, watching as Spock's head moved constantly, taking in the signs over shop fronts that flashed as silver and brass gyros spun from them, catching the attention of the children of the parents they were attempting to attract with the light that was thrown everywhere. McCoy watched the way they lingered on those windows, lingered on the sky and the sun, the eyes behind the lenses likely slightly wider than usual.

There were just so many things to look at. A few shiny brass automobiles floated past them, Spock watching them just slightly. Jim was watching him with a small barely noticeable smile on his face, eyes shining at the sight of the way he would practically twitch in his effort not to reach out to touch something, only to pull back at the last minute.

McCoy on the other hand was frowning slightly, considering the two in front of him, considering the way Spock handled it.

Younger. He had to have been younger.

That calmed him slightly, the younger a person the more resilient they were. The deeper the trauma… Well…he'd get to that later. One step at a time and currently he hoped that they could survive, that Spock might actually be able to be seen as 'normal'. But he wasn't surrendering himself to hope. Spock would have to prove himself and at the moment, McCoy found himself skeptical.

Spock's eyes, much as McCoy had thought, never stopped moving, flickering from point to point, examining everything he could, trying to catalogue what everything was and what it was doing. There were so many things, so many objects and gizmos, so many wondrous things that he had thought were only imagined. That came to him in half remembered dreams.

He stayed close to 'Jim', the blue eyed smiling man who was so different when compared to anyone he had met in this state. He found himself almost unconsciously staying close to him, a part of him absolutely terrified to be outside again. It was one of the reasons he had not utilized his escape route. He was terrified by what was out there, the shiny automobiles and the people that walked by him, tipping their heads or hats at the three of them, regarding Spock in particular with wary gazes.

He had to force himself to not check to see if there was any metal showing.

But the main thing that amazed him, were the sounds. Children laughing and shouting at each other as they ran down the street, playing games and avoiding their parents who would shout after them; shopkeepers and their patrons, haggling for the best prices; horns honking at each other, and in the background of all the noise, he could hear birds.

Spock found himself focusing on the blue sky above him, eyes wide as he took it in, the absolute majesty of it, the sun shining and peeking out behind a large fluffy cloud. He couldn't remember having seen anything as beautiful as the sky, the moisture in the air, the water that condensed to form that cloud. He found himself in quiet awe at the sight of it.

Jim watched him, constantly smiling, practically drinking in Spock's nearly tangible joy at being out. He watched the mask carefully, feeling like jumping and laughing at realizing that that joy in the other was because of him, because of what he did for him. He knew that if Spock could have joy, it was very likely that he would be fine. McCoy had no reason to worry and he was going to prove it.

They headed to the outskirts of the city, Spock still finding it difficult to believe the vast amount of people he could see. Aside from the usual humans, whom Spock expected, considering they were on Earth, there were also a few aliens wandering around, Andorians, a scattered couple of Orions, and a few Vulcans. As he believed they were close to Starfleet and the Ambassadorial District, he was not surprised.

Finally they entered a building, the three of them moving to stand in front of a modest looking desk in front of them with brass finish, a smiling man in uniform greeting them cheerily, all except for what he believed to be a mercenary. He merely gave Spock a very polite nod. "Beam up to the ship then, gents?"

"You know it."

"Alright, step up."

The three of them moved to what resembled a large gear mounted into the floor. They stood in three of the holes, looking at each other for a moment, before a soft hum started. Starting from their heads and going down, two mechanical arms lowered, as it passed down their bodies, their atoms slowly ripped to shreds to be transported to their destination.

When they appeared on the ship, a beaming man in a button up white shirt and an unbuttoned red vest was standing behind the control panel, the grin fading when he caught sight of Spock.

"So…we did ge' the mission then, Captain?" The man asked in a rather strong Scottish accent. He regained his smile quickly, but what was so surprising about that was the fact that the smile was in fact _genuine_. Spock began looking around under the mask, admiring the technology that surrounded him, his eyes slowly raising to meet what seemed to resemble a large brass phonograph attached to the ceiling. He blinked at it before looking at the rest, shiny and buffed walls and a pair of doors made of brass with large gears on either side of them, ready to open as they came close. Beside that was what amounted to a coat rack, two vests and two coats hanging from it, one black and the other thin gray striped. He realized then that Jim was answering and began listening closely.

"Actually, no, we didn't Scotty. We've merely acquired a new member temporarily until he can get to his destination. It's going to be a very long wait for the members of that planet though."

"Ah, one of those types then?"

"A group of men who believe they need to start a war, but don't have any idea of the cost." Jim answered weakly, believably, McCoy once again forced to admire the man's ability.

'Scotty' shook his head weakly, looking directly at Spock and giving him a nod of his head, "I admire your stand."

The two next to the half-Vulcan tensed slightly, waiting for what he would say, if anything at all. "Your opinion is unnecessary, yet I believe the customary response is 'thank you.'"

Scotty blinked, looking slightly surprised at the speech pattern that issued from that covered mouth, his eyes automatically searching for the ears which were hidden in a tangle of black hair. "Tha' would explain yer stand. More power to ye, sir."

Spock merely inclined his head quietly, turning his attention to the Captain.

"Alright, I believe that the first thing we should do is introduce you to the bridge crew. Word travels fast around the rest of the crew, thanks to Scotty over there," Scotty ducked his head with a small grin, "so they're likely to know soon enough. Chekov will make an announcement relatively soon, after we get introductions over with." Jim clapped his hands, and then turned around to face him.

"Well, let's get to it then, shall we?" With that they began walking to the doors, Jim and McCoy snagged the vests, Jim a red and black patterned one and McCoy a maroon, black coat and gray being shrugged on respectively, the two of them walking out, buttoning the vests up as they went. Spock followed sedately, watching various members of the crew walk past them, all looking like they were on a holiday, yet Spock could see underneath their guise that they were true professionals. Their postures and manner gave it away even without the uniforms.

The salutes to Jim and nods of the head to Spock and McCoy didn't help matters. Spock was honestly unsurprised to see that the captain more often than not waved their salutes away, seeming to be rather annoyed by it. "No matter what I do, I can't seem to get them to stop saluting…" Jim grumbled at the doctor, McCoy smirking slightly before shaking his head.

"Unsurprising, really, give them time, Jim. They're still not used to being considered 'the Elite'."

Jim gave a short huff before making it to the lift. Spock had been examining the light strips in the walls and ceiling, careful to make the appearance be of someone checking for the security of the ship. As what he was pretending to be was basically a professional killer, used to watching his back, few people would have any reason to challenge him for his curiosity.

They turned to him at the lift and waved for him to go first. He did, eyes practically darting around the interior, examining various mechanisms and attempting to see which ones did what. Finally Jim turned to a smaller phonograph sticking out of the wall. "Bridge." The lift immediately began to rise.

Jim grinned slightly at the way Spock was examining the gears and gyros that lined the interior of it, the walls basically made of a clear resin that gave those curious the ability to examine it. Also giving engineers a better idea of what was happening on the other side of it. Finally the lift began slowing and the doors opened. Spock was given a moment to glance out into it, before Jim turned around to face him, and smiled widely.

"I don't believe we got the formalities out of the way yet. Mr. Spock, welcome to the _Enterprise_. I hope you're stay here will be enjoyable." He spread his arms out to the side to encompass the area behind him, and smirked.

"Welcome to the bridge."


	4. Who

_Yaaay, I updated! Everyone can cheer. Terribly sorry it took so long my friends. It's been busy, and sick... Oy. That said, here we go!_  
...

Faces turned to the lift at the merry greeting, eyes lighting up when they saw their Captain and CMO, but then the light faded as they saw who else was standing there. Spock followed Jim onto the bridge, eyes trailing over brass consoles covered with levers and switches, screens mounted above them, and at the front a mounted ships wheel, buttons and dials placed all along them. The people were only a passing glance, for they all had similar expressions.

An African woman sat near what seemed to be a communications station, a red dress with black lace trimming covering her, a large black and red hat balanced on her head, netting sprouting from the back and giving it the appearance of a cloak. On the other side, leaning over what Spock recognized as the science station, frozen in the midst of deciding whether to continue peering into it or straightening, was a young man who did not fit in his brown pinstriped suit as well as he would when he was older, the black vest not helping matters much. His wide blue eyes were focused on the mask, but the look wasn't one of fear, merely curiosity. An Asian man stood at the front near the wheel, brown eyes focused as well, wearing a long white coat that went to his shins and a grey vest with black pinstripe pants, boots tucked into them neatly.

The overall effect was once again of a group of people on a holiday and when Scotty joined, buttoning his vest up as he went it became more pronounced. Spock took a moment to examine the lift; he had not heard it move. In that time, eyes flitted to the captain, a few signed signals spreading, and shortly wide smiles took worry's place. There was a moment of silence and then the woman spoke up.

"So, what's your name, sugar? Where you off to and what can we do to help you get situated?"

Spock blinked behind his mask, an eyebrow rising, turning to look at her, slightly surprised when her smile didn't drop, only grew more pronounced, showing white teeth. After a moment's contemplation, examining Jim out of the corner of his eye for a hint of how to respond he opened his mouth. "My name is Spock, I am currently not 'off to' anywhere that cannot wait, in fact, the plan is to wait. As for 'getting situated' there is very little I require, Miss…"

"Uhura, Mr. Spock, my name is Uhura."

"Uhura." He inclined his head at her, turning his attention to the young man whose mouth had fallen open slightly. As soon as he realized that Spock's attention was on him he straightened slightly, his mouth closing.

"You are Wulcan?" Three words and a hush fell over the bridge, the man's expression turning terrified.

There were three rules when dealing with Mercenaries and the first one was never question where they came from. While some were more obvious than others, that question would only lead to others, and a Mercenary could not deal with nosiness about where they came from and who they were. Spock seemed to realize this and reacted as such, walking quietly over to him, the rest of the bridge tensing, but taking their captain's lead and not moving to interfere.

"I…I am sorry, sir, it is not my place to question…" His head was lowered, his eyes round, the beginnings of wetness developing in the corners. He knew what was looking at him; he knew that with a single move Mercenaries had been able and willing to slice the heads or other body part off of the ones who displeased them. He was aware that he should not have spoken, he was aware he had broken the rules, and he was aware that it was possible that he was going to die.

"Questions are powerful things." The blond haired young man looked up, surprised at the words, but remaining silent, almost holding his breath. "With them you can discover the world around you and the lives of others, but they are also dangerous. Asking the wrong ones can lead to learning more than you wished to know, sometimes they can lead to more curiosity, sometimes the answer can lead to pain, and sometimes the answer can lead to death." He watched the man flinch blankly, but then continued slowly. "And sometimes the answer to the question is obvious. Yes, I am Vulcan. You are Russian, I take?"

"Yes, um…Ensign Pavel Chekov, sir," Chekov answered, looking up at him fully, trying to hide how relieved he was that the conversation went in such a direction.

"Mr. Chekov." Spock inclined his head at him and moved away, the rest of the bridge releasing a collective breath that they hadn't realized they were holding. He continued in his perusal, examining the various stations, talking quietly to a few of the others standing around the bridge, and then approached the helm, the man standing there straightening slightly at his approach.

Jim watched with his arms crossed, amusement evident in his stance, moving over to his communications officer and asking her about their latest assignment. A moment later and McCoy left, off to the sickbay for final preparations and checks.

"Mr. Sulu, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance." With that parting comment and a nod, Spock moved over to Jim, standing behind the captain's chair as the man plopped down, looking something like a bodyguard.

"Alright people, we have our orders. Chekov, I've passed them to your station, make an announcement, and do be sure to include that we have a guest onboard, and to be extra polite."

"Aye, Keptain!" That said the young man went over to do just that, another man taking his place at the science station.

Noting the way Spock's attention had shifted slightly, Jim explained quietly, "Chekov's primarily the helmsman, but when we have something significant that is an extreme anomaly or something we haven't seen before he takes over. That guy there is Ensign Wallace Mallory. I love his last name, it's way too easy to make fun of him."

"…Highly illogical, Captain."

Jim laughed, and nodded. "While that may be true, you should see his face if I do it well enough."

"I believe that I have no interest or desire to see such a thing." Jim noticed it then, a slight tightness to that voice, and as he glanced over at the man standing beside him he noticed the tenseness in his form. Well. He was a royal class idiot.

"Ensign Rand," he started, swinging his chair around to look at a woman who had her hair up in an elaborate bun with a small blue hat perched atop it at an angle. "Take Mr. Spock and show him to his quarters. Also have that bag from Engineering sent to his room, you know the one."

"Aye, sir. Follow me, Mr. Spock." She smiled at him, Spock looking at Jim for a second for following her, gaping shock filling his chest at the realization Jim had known he was uncomfortable._ And that he had done something about it._

There were so many people, too many people, when he had been treated to glimpses of one or two at a time, and even then they rarely, if ever, talked to him. He did not know how to act, falling on the training he had received at the hands of his father…before…

He halted that train of thought with difficulty, paying attention to the babbling blond haired woman in front of him, listening as she spoke and explained, and realized that what she was saying had merit sometimes. Through her he learned that the ship he was on, as they exited the lift on a floor he memorized, the _Enterprise_, was the true flagship of the fleet, disguised as it was as a normal transport ship it housed some of the best weaponry, shielding, and technology available. It was their worst guarded secret, but as their name wasn't emblazoned across the hull, 'it was highly unlikely anyone would be able to spot it, you know, because it's just so _ordinary_ looking, if you know what I mean'. Spock knew what she meant, but he harbored no secret love of her speech patterns.

"We're rarely called on for diplomacy, but when we are it's important. That's what our current mission is, Mr. Spock." She smiled at him and turned to look at him, standing next to a door they had come to. "This is it, Mr. Spock, your bag should be inside, I hope you'll find your stay eventful. You're right next to the Captain. Everything you need, including the layout of the ship, is provided - at least for all the commercial areas. Nothing too confidential you see." She winked at him, and punched in a code that he memorized easily. "Welcome to the _Enterprise_, I hope I'll see you later."

Spock wasn't all that sure he shared that hope. The woman spoke too much.

He entered the room quietly, examining the sparse nature of it. It was not as small as he had expected, a desk, a chair, its own personal computer and a bed made up the main area, and as he examined it he noticed the black bag sitting on the bed. He opened it carefully, surprised and almost pleased at the sight of more clothing. As he unfolded it he noticed that it came in all different sizes and cuts, most of it black. It appeared that they were used to receiving various mercenaries, and none of them could ever remember a change of clothes. He shifted through them, his fingers dancing through layers of clothing, more than he had seen in years. Then he came to the back and froze.

Weapons. Various types and designs of weapons gleamed up at him. Each of them were for close contact, which he found unsurprising, considering they were meant for use in assassinations mainly, and were usually easier to counter when the rest had phasers. He picked up the nearest one, a deadly looking knife and examined it, smirking slightly when he noticed the hilt. There was the tiniest of tracking devices layered into it, and he found himself highly amused, yet another way for them to stop and put down the ones who sought to betray the ones acting as a transport. He was aware that any normal alien would not have been able to see it, or at least recognize it for what it was. He was used to his vision now; he was beginning to find it helpful.

A moment's hesitation and he began taking out the clothes he consented to wear, putting them up in the closet he found nearby, and folded the bag back up before latching it. He was aware that the weapons were only there for when he reached his destination, another caution Mercenaries took. Never use your own weapons for the job, they could be traced. And these weapons were made special, mercenary grade.

Then he noticed the other door. He slowly made his way to it, opening it to find a bathroom. Further investigation showed that it connected to another room, from what Rand had said, the Captains quarters. But he wasn't all that interested in that at the moment, instead his eyes were locked on the shower, and after a moment's hesitation he locked both doors and began doing something he hadn't been able to do in years. Get clean.  
…

Kirk requested entrance to Spock's quarters at the end of shift, a voice calling for him to enter. He did so and grinned, noting the sleekness to the Vulcan's now clean and straight hair, tied up in a loose ponytail that still managed to hide his ears. The brown eyes that stared at him reflected questions. "Well, I see you found the sonics."

"Indeed."

"So, how do you like the room, everything's decent?"

"It is, it is…much appreciated."

"Good. So, do you want the grand tour? I have time now. We can check out the science department, check out Engineering, Medical…all that good stuff. What do you think?"

Spock was quiet, hesitant, leaving Jim to consider what could be the cause of it. "If you want we can do it when most of the crew is asleep. Gamma shift will roll around in a couple hours, and I can do it then."

"Do you not have alpha shift? Will you not be tired?"

Jim grinned at him, "One of the benefits of being Captain is that I can give myself beta shift." He winked, making Spock straighten slightly. "Besides, it's a usual tactic of mine to keep as close an eye on our Mercenary guests as possible, hence the fact the rooms are joined. Having someone who preferred the dark to the light wouldn't be that surprising.

"We had a member of an alien race once….nothing against him, but damn, did he have no light tolerance whatsoever. He would stay holed up in his room, and I had to persuade Scotty to turn the lights off at certain times during shift so he could get around and get some exercise. He was very friendly about it though, very grateful, and actually a pretty nice guy. I do have to say that speaking to him in the dark and not being able to really see him was creepy as hell, but yeah…"

Spock listened to him speak with a raised eyebrow, cocking his head to the side and trying to pay attention. Jim seemed to realize his difficulty and trailed off earlier than it seemed he had wanted to. "My apologies, I…find it difficult to concentrate, my ears…they are having trouble adjusting."

"What do you mean?"

Spock hesitated for a moment, looking for a way to explain, and finally pulled his black hair away from his ears. Jim hesitated, moving closer when Spock indicated the one nearest to him, letting him examine it. As he drew nearer he began to realize just how complicated they were. The tiniest of gears lined the inside and could be seen ticking away near his head on the outside, tiny copper bars connecting them, which he could only see if he squinted.

"They are sensitive, more sensitive than a Vulcan's usual hearing, but due to that sensitivity it is harder to concentrate on selective noises. Your voice is blended with the ships own internal hum, the sound of the sonic shower two rooms over, and the conversation the woman is having next door with…I believe it is her boyfriend. They are arguing about something, something to do with…" Spock stopped talking and Jim was almost positive that if his ears had been real they would have been flushing green. But that part of him was small, masked by shock and surprise at the realization of just how much he had been altered.

"So you can't concentrate on me?"

"Give me time, Captain, I have not needed to translate this much interference in a decade. I will be able to do so eventually, you have my word."

"Alright, Spock, but don't push yourself, take as much time as you need. We don't need you running yourself ragged, you know. None of us know how to fix you."

"…Indeed."

Jim grinned at him and sighed. "Well, since we're waiting for gamma, it might be a while to wait."

"I apologize, you do not need to cater to me, you may spend your time elsewhere."

"Spock, you've been locked up for years, on your own. I'm pretty sure you're not willing to go back to that again so soon."

He was right. Spock had begun to feel the familiar sensation, the ones of the walls creeping in, only it was compounded. There was so much noise, so much interference, everything, too much, _it was too much… _

"Spock!"

The man jerked his head up, locking eyes with worried blue. "Hey, I almost lost you for a moment there, are you alright?"

"I am…"

That was all he said and finally Jim let it go.

"So…do you play chess?"


	5. We

_HAHA, I WIN! What, I don't know, but I finally managed to update, aren't you all proud of me. Hope you enjoy!_  
...

It turned out that Spock did not play chess, but he was very eager to learn. Kirk talked him through it, grinning at him as he watched the way Spock's eyes would flicker over the pieces and platforms, making notes. Jim went over the rules once, ready to go over it again, when Spock made a move. Jim grinned at him. "I take it you got it?"

"Indeed."

"Alright then, let's play a couple rounds while we wait, how does that sound?"

"Acceptable."

Jim decided to play easy on him at first, let the man have a chance to get the feel of the game. He quickly learned that this was a mistake. Before he knew what had happened he found himself in checkmate. Kirk looked at the board, staring at it like it had bitten him. He didn't care that he had played easy on him, because half way through he had started defending his pieces in earnest. He had still lost.

"Well…you can play chess. Are you positive that you've never played this before?"

"It is a strategy game. Logic has precedence, therefore I understand it. I am…was…Vulcan."

"Hey, there's no 'was'. You're still Vulcan, you just have…embellishments most Vulcan's would think impractical."

Spock blinked, looking at him with his head slightly cocked to the side. "You seem to believe that should you deny the truth long enough it will not be so."

"It's not the truth, Spock. The truth is what you believe."

"Yet you cannot deny that I am no longer as a Vulcan should be. I…lack emotional control; I have not been meditating and have lost myself. Jim, as much as you would wish, you cannot deny the truth, for if it is true, it cannot be avoided."

Kirk didn't reply, but his eyes were practically spitting sparks. "Fine. You're not a perfect little Vulcan. Whatever, why the hell should that matter? You're you, and, alright, fine, you happen to be made of a combination of flesh and metal, I have had some people that say I'm basically a combination of legs and a cock, but what the hell do I care? So I like the more carnal pleasures in life, it's not all I live for, so you're not exactly pure 100% Vulcan…so what? You don't have to let it define you."

Spock was silent, looking at the man who had crossed his arms and was glaring at him, almost…huffing in his anger. He was not quite certain what to think, on one hand he found it highly illogical, surely he would know that a single rant would not cause him to change (true) perceptions. On the other, he had to admit to finding his concern and his anger on his behalf…'touching'. He appreciated the sentiment.

But that was all.

Kirk was saved a further hissing comment when he noticed the time. "Oh, hey, gamma shift has just started. We'll give everyone a few moments, and then head out, alright? Can you get your mask on, or do you need help?"

"As I must be able to put it on by myself, I believe I must learn."

"Alright then." Jim watched as Spock picked it up and after a few moments managed to buckle and snap it securely into place, adjusting it a small amount, and finally looking at him. "Looks good, you ready?"

"I am."

"Alright, follow me."

Jim opened the door, stuck his head out and looked both ways, smirking slightly at the knowledge that Spock was showing slight signs of confusion, and, once seeing that the coast was clear, turned back and indicated that Spock should follow him. The Vulcan did so, watching the man's exaggerated stealth movements with a raised eyebrow and after a moment's hesitation, followed him. Jim crept his way to the end of the hall, slowly sticking his head around the corner, and turning back, only to be met with the sight of a black gas mask a few inches from his nose. He yelped, jumping back, and then burst out laughing.

"Damn, you sure as hell move like a damn cat. I didn't even hear you coming."

"My apologies."

"Nah, with your job it's expected." Jim grinned at him, his blue eyes hinting at something. Spock recognized what it was immediately and simply inclined his head. Kirk gave him another little grin, turned around, and once again began leading him down the corridors, this time normally and indicating various interesting features. Spock found it all highly fascinating, from the brass fixtures to the gleaming floors and walls.

As Jim had stated, there were very few people wandering the halls at this hour, and they encountered barely ten of them; those they did meet gave salutes and nodded politely to Spock. He could hear them whispering to each other all the way down the hall. Jim continued to talk by his side, attempting to help him get used to focusing on something, he believed, and he had to admit that he found it helpful, if only for the fact that it was working. Slowly, but surely.

Jim indicated shortcuts and where they lead to, telling him where he could find all the main places of assembly. Then he led him to a Jefferies tube that he climbed into, Spock pausing for a moment before following after.

They climbed down the dusty, yet obviously cared for tube, Jim's voice calling up to him how he felt that it was always better to get a good feel for where the tubes were. It would help him be able to get to places quicker, and if there was an emergency situation, that was better than waiting for the lift. He also explained how he had seen the mercenaries react to people who threatened the ship they were on. They had destroyed them. Absolutely destroyed them.

"Spock, I don't know about your view on pacifism, but you can't afford it as you are. You're a mercenary. You know this, but I figure it's better that I tell you this now. You need to use whatever mental techniques you know in order to cut off whatever part of you may be repulsed by what you are doing. You need that instinct. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Captain. I will do what needs to be done should the time come." Spock replied, and Jim heard the note in his voice, that underlay of steel, and knew that he would.

"Good. I don't want you getting caught. I don't want you going back there."

"Neither do I..."

Jim paused mid step, the quiet words made larger through the echoes. "It won't happen."

Spock didn't reply and Jim eventually continued down, opening the tube when he got to the end and jumping out, there was an accented shout of surprise, followed by the hollow clang of metal on metal, and then a flurry of cursing. Spock hesitated for a moment before slowly flipping himself upside down in the tube, lowering himself to the point he could stick his head out, watching the Captain sheepishly grinning at a fuming Engineer. Metal tools surrounded them, obviously the source of the clanging.

It was at that moment that Scotty saw him, and immediately let out yet another shout and jumped. Jim turned to look at him and blinked when he noticed his position before rolling his eyes.

"Damn you guys are showoffs."

Spock raised an eyebrow under his mask and flipped down, black spanning out behind him elegantly as he landed and stood at attention. "Indeed?"

Jim was silent, eyes slightly wider than normal in surprise, Scotty reflecting the look, before Jim's smoothed over. "No, you're totally not a showoff; you go up and down ladders like a regular person."

"Ah, well...if that is the basis for how one 'shows off', I suppose that is a logical deduction, Captain."

Kirk blinked, and then laughed. "Thank you, Spock, good to know."

"Aye, If I see anyone flippin' down the corridors, I'll know who it is."

"That is if the outfit doesn't tip you off." Jim winked, and Scotty laughed.

"That is true, sir. So, we showin' the lad a bit of the Engineering Deck, then?"

"That's the plan, Mr. Scott, let's get to it then, shall we?"

"Right, after we pick this up." Scotty began gathering tools, Jim, and, after a moment, Spock both bending down to help. Once they were all cleared up and put away he gave them a brief tour of Engineering, smiling the entire time, laughing and joking with the two of them as though he had known them his entire life. Spock was unsure what to think of it, or how to react. It was...nice.

It was then that he noticed something. On the bottommost deck there was something he recognized, something that made him hesitate for a moment before neatly and cleanly leaping over the edge, grasping the lower railing on the platform below, and dropping down to land on his feet and fall into a roll. A vague part of him heard the shouts from above him, feet clanging on the iron rungs of ladders as they shouted out at him to make sure he was alright. He straightened and tugged his coat into place, examining the cause of his reaction as his mind reeled to find an explanation.

Jim was the first to arrive, blue eyes wide and slightly worried, yet his position was hostile and defensive, as it should be; mercenaries were trusted, but it was a very fine trust, and very easily broken. Scotty wasn't far behind, falling into step behind his captain, only to stand in front of him protectively, something Jim noticed and glared at him for.

"Somethin' caught your interest then?"

"Indeed. You have a VadimerVII, I have not seen this design in operation. I was unaware that it had been cleared."

Scotty blinked, and then grinned at him. "So, ye're interested in these sorts of things, Mr. Spock?"

"Indeed."

"Shouldna be surprised, ye are Vulcan, but I never knew that yer people had an interest in these machines."

Spock turned to look at him, and even under the mask, Scotty felt the look from underneath it and grinned. "Aye, I shouldna be surprised, but I haven't met many Vulcans. Ye keep to yerselves quite a bit."

"Indeed."

Jim laughed then, "Well, now that that excitement is over, can I request that you don't jump over the edge like that again? It's worrying."

"My apologies, I shall attempt to refrain in the future. If you do not mind the inquiry, why is it positioned this far down?"

"Ah, well…" Scotty looked at his captain, Jim nodding in approval so he explained. "The _Enterprise_, beautiful ship that she is, is one of a kind in more ways than one, sir. She looks like a transport ship, and this leads to what would normally be a rather average interior, the power stored in the middle of the ship, and layers of protection around it. In this ship, however, we store it down below, and have more shieldin' and thicker platin'. We've run the simulations, it's almost completely invulnerable, and there are several more things protecting it than that." Scotty gave him a wink that practically screamed of heavy protection and lacing of more weapons than he could count. "So, basically, aside from puttin' it in an totally different place, it also protects it better, ye see, most can't get to the underbelly of this particular ship. The design makes it difficult. Also, should it blow it's contained, see? Safety precaution and just general design choice."

"Fascinating."

"That she is." Scotty grinned at him, trying and failing to hide a yawn.

"We'll let you go, Scotty, thanks for your time."

"It's no trouble, Captain, always willing and ready to talk to our guests."

"A fact I'm very glad for." Jim nodded at him, and turned back to Spock. "Alright, let's go then."

Spock followed the captain out of the deck, this time to the lift.

"I've had enough of ladders," Jim said with a slight grin. "So, do you normally make it a habit to jump over railings?"

"Negative, however…"

"You have an image to uphold and you're doing your best to do so."

"…Indeed."

"You're doing fine. More than fine, actually… So, where would you like to go to next? I can show you anything from the Sickbay to the mess hall and anything in-between. What would you like to see?"

"Is Doctor McCoy in the Sickbay?"

"You mean at this hour? I would bet on it."

"Then I must request that we avoid that until further notice."

Jim blinked, and then burst out laughing. "You got it, Spock, you got it…hey, how about the Observation Deck?" His eyes lit up at that idea, the Vulcan pausing to consider before inclining his head. "Excellent. We'll go to the forward one, give you a decent view of the ship, sound good?"

"Indeed."

"…You sure as hell say 'indeed' a lot."

"…I am unaccustomed to long periods of conversation. I do not know what is required in reply to some statements. Others…I am Vulcan, mentions of emotion are…difficult."

Jim nodded his head as he listened, but at the quiet admission his smile widened. "Alright then, I'll keep that in mind."

"Indeed."

Jim laughed.


	6. Are?

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment we've been waiting for. We are currently orbiting over Marinior II. As we are aware, it is a class M planet that we've been trying to get to enter into a peace treaty for ages now." Jim was leaning forward in his chair, speaking to his crew through the comm. system. Spock was standing at attention next to him, as was his usual status, staring out the viewscreen at the planet they were orbiting. "Our job is to hopefully finally convince these people. They're hoping that the heroes of the Federation will be able to persuade them. As per usual we let you know due to the fact that, as always, people, we need to pay attention. Normal rotation is in effect; keep us posted, and the team will do their job."

With that final word he turned the comm. off, the phonograph-shaped microphone retracting into its place in the chair's arm, then stood up and regarded the bridge. "Alright, Mr.'s Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and Spock, you're with me; Ms. Uhura…you also, after you get the chief security officer and Doctor McCoy to meet us in briefing room two, alright? Don't forget to get us clearance."

"No problem, Captain; he'll be there, and we'll be able to go down."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." With that, Jim inclined his head to her and began leading them out. Spock trailed slightly hesitantly, but he made certain to present his unease as caution. They entered the briefing room to find the chief of security standing there. He was dressed in a neat white button-up shirt, but had his sleeves rolled up to over his elbows, revealing their muscular nature, black suspenders connected to black pants and black boots over the pants. Green eyes flicked from face to face with the ease of a man who was used to taking in every detail, certain to find a threat. Those eyes hovered on Spock a bit more than anyone else, taking in build and the gasmask. Making sure he was ready to fight should they need to.

McCoy was standing to the side, dressed in the usual pinstripe suit and red vest, but his undershirt was also black, and his hazel eyes reflected more than his usual amount of disdain for the one wearing the gasmask. He inclined his head politely, however, and then focused his attention on Jim.

"Mr. Giotto, do you have any men for me?"

"I'm offering you my services. My men are good, but at the moment I have few to spare. However, I would recommend bringing the mercenary…"

"That's why he's here, Giotto," Jim affirmed and turned around to face them all, gesturing for them to sit down. Uhura entered shortly and sat as well, the Captain pacing around the room. "Alright, so for Mr. Spock's benefit, if not our own reminding, why are we here, what do they have, and what threat do they present?"

"If I migh' start first, Captain?" Scotty asked, looking at him. Jim nodded. "Alrigh', so, Marinior II has, aside from plentiful natural resources, more dilithium crystals than you can shake a stick at, and we want those. Not to take 'em all, mind, but just the start of a symbiotic relationship so to speak. We get crystals that they don't have much use for, as they aren't all that interested in space travel; they get protection."

"These are all the more important due to the recent loss," Jim said, his voice quiet. There was a moment of silence, heads lowering slightly, Spock staring around in slight confusion under the mask, a spark of suspicion awoken, even though his head lowered.

"Aye…so, we're after the treaty, but so far…we haven' had all that much luck…"

"I can take over from here," Giotto said, leaning forward against the desk. "The reason we haven't had much luck is for the simple fact that _they don't like us_. They find us weak and pitiful, and as they are a rather-battle focused nation…that's a big deal. Their men, their women, and their children are all focused on might. So far, everyone we've sent down has been unable to impress, so…they decided to send the flagship. Our job is to impress them with the fact that, with minimum bloodshed, we can and are able to take them. This will be difficult."

"Aside from the fact that they're all bigger than a human, they're stronger than a human. They're also smart."

"No kiddin'; they like keepin' their feet and experiments on the ground where it's safe and not in space where it could get shot to hell in two seconds," McCoy grumbled.

The immediate response to that was either a groan or a snicker. "We're all aware of your dislike for space; there's no need to be snippy."

"I'm not all that sure the Vulcan knows; figured I'd let him in on it."

"I'm sure he's enthused."

"Indeed…"

The laughter was instantaneous, McCoy responding with a sneer.

"Alright, so, any questions?"

"I have one," Spock began, their heads turning to look at him. "Should things go wrong, is lethal force called for?"

They were silent for a moment, and then the chief of security looked at him directly. "If things go wrong, protect the Captain at all costs."

"Understood."

"Now come on, Giotto, it's not like…"

"No, not gonna hear it, Jim; sorry." He gave him a slightly apologetic smile and turned to look at the rest of them. "We off?"

"We're off."

"Let's get this damn thing over with…"

They trailed out of the briefing room, Spock taking his place behind the Captain, careful to make his movements seem cordial. As Giotto walked next to him it was not all that difficult to do.

"You have your weapons with you?" The quiet voice made Spock turn his head to look at him, his wrist twitching and a knife springing up to be grasped in hand. Giotto gave a slight smirk. "Alright then, I take it you're fully prepared to do your job then."

"As it is not my final destination, the 'job' part is questionable, but as my current job is to protect the Captain at all costs, yes."

"Good."

They entered the transporter room, moving to stand in formation as the engineer at the station set coordinates. "The Mariniors bid us to beam down at our own risk, but their tone was jovial," Uhura said quietly.

"They always like being able to prove they're superior." The comment made them laugh. Spock remained silent, as did Giotto. The both of them were entering what the Captain termed 'protect the idiots' mode, something Giotto smirked at and confirmed quietly.

"So, we ready?"

"More than."

"Alright then. Mr. Smith, energize."

"Aye, Captain."

With that the arms of the device once again lowered, their atoms disassembled, and then they were pieced together a few miles away from the village, whose lights they could see in the distance.

"Alright, let's get to it. Remember Uhura, you're a tough fighter. Kill if you have to, should they put you up to it. Remember that one of the reasons they won't agree is they don't find our women strong enough."

"Aye, Captain," Uhura stated, shifting her red dress slightly, Spock noticing the slit up the side that made it all the more easy to move should she need to.

"Showtime."

They began their winding trek over the grass-covered hill they had found themselves at the base of. It was a quiet walk; they never spoke, each focusing how they would, McCoy straightening and tightening his doctor's bag as he walked- nervous habit. Finally they entered the clearing, coming into the light, and Spock saw immediately why it would be difficult to fight them.

They were tall, roughly two heads taller than a human, meaning they were a head taller than Spock, and were muscle bound to the point that it was difficult to see which was male and which was female. But, Spock realized, as did most of the others, that even were the humans unable to out match the Mariniors in strength, they would likely be fast enough to avoid the large aliens. Orange skin with a shock of blue hair also made them highly visible.

The largest male and the largest female walked forward ahead of the others; Spock could tell due to their reliance on strength that they would be the leaders. Each of them lifted their hands up, bowing and grinning at them.

"Federation Members, greetings and welcome; do we start with the festivities, or are we going right into the action?" The woman spoke first, a vicious grin twisting her features, revealing sharp teeth.

"What? No introductions? Please; I'd like to at least know whose ass I kick before we get into anything else." Jim grinned, eyes sparking. The Mariniors reacted immediately, laughter and grins spreading across faces, eyes twinkling. The man clapped a hand to Jim's shoulder and shook him.

"I like you, Captain Jim; you have a big mouth. My name is Mindos. This is my mate Suniv. We are the chief rulers of these people, and the ones you wish to negotiate with. I must say, you really are a stubborn lot. You don't seem to understand that we truly mean no."

"I know, and I understand that it must be an annoyance to you and your people, but we truly…"

"An annoyance? Hardly, sir. We find your consistent attempts heartening. It is good to know that there are still people who do not give up."

"Yeah, we're kinda stupid like that."

More laughter, the chief smiling, but the more the Mariniors laughed and the more they talked the more nervous the crew got. The reports had never mentioned this side of them, and wherever something was strange they became wary. Then they noticed the way they kept glancing at Spock and they realized why. It seemed that even here the mercenaries were looked on with trepidation and respect.

"So, should we get down to business then?"

"It would be appreciated. Our job is difficult enough as it is without excess formalities."

"I understand, Captain. Who is your crew?"

"Mr.'s Scott, Sulu, Giotto, and this is our translator Nyota. We are aware of the fact that you sometimes find Standard difficult; she speaks your language fluently should you need any assistance. This one is Spock."

"I was unaware that you desired the crystals so much you were willing to involve the mercenaries…"

"You misunderstand; he is not here to help us deal with you. We do not conference in such a manner."

"And yet he is here."

"Yes, because he is bored and has nothing to do on the ship. Please, Mindos."

"I was interested in your planet. Your ecosystem is dissimilar to my own, so much so that I wished to observe. If you have any objections I will be willing to leave; however, I must ask to stay. Your people are not why I am here; however, I am uncertain of the wisdom of leaving my transport unprotected."

Mindos froze, looking over at the tall man with the cultured tongue and black clothing, and examined him closely, turning to his mate and whispering to her in their language. To the shock of everyone else, especially Jim and McCoy, Spock answered in the same language. They hesitated, the chief and his mate examining him warily, and finally smiling.

"Would you join us in the games when they begin?"

"It would be an honor."

"Very well. Do remember, we do not take kindly to cheating."

Both parties were silent, examining each other carefully, eyes focused and challenging. It was going to be an interesting visit.


	7. Is

The Mariniors were friendly. It was this fact that confused them. They had been expecting something totally different, something more…vicious, bloodthirsty. But they were nothing like that. It was for this reason that they could take the sight of their Chief Security Officer fighting the large orange brute the others had chosen and cheer. Giotto was ducking and weaving, in and under and around various attempts by the other, who was named Nivic, to hit him.

He had been hit once in the gut and had nearly thrown up, but one of the rules was never to hit the other when he was down, and he had recovered quickly enough, the other apologizing. They were not aiming for horrible damage; it was more sport than anything else. This did not change the fact that every move they made was being tested and evaluated, and so far Kirk thought they were doing pretty good. It was at this moment that Giotto managed to land a solid uppercut on the underside of Nivic's chin, sending him to the grass. Everyone fell immediately silent, staring at the fallen Marinior in shock.

"Need a hand up?" Giotto asked, offering his hand, and Nivic laughed.

"No need to be insulting, human; you've made your point."

"I meant no offense…where I'm from it's considered sportsmanlike to help the other one to his feet should he need it." Giotto was teasing, smirking slightly, the orange-skinned alien offering one in return.

"So, the scores are tied now, right?" Jim asked, leaning next to the ruler and grinning at him.

"That is correct," Mindos answered, surprise in his words and his blue eyebrows pinching together slightly.

"One of the best matches you've seen?"

"Certainly one of the most surprising." The two of them laughed, watching as the two in the arena made yet another pass at each other, Giotto managing to dive to the side and land a snap kick to the side of Nivic's head. Nivic looked at him with shock in his eyes, unhurt due to his physiology, before with a slight smile he lowered himself to the ground. "Your crew is winning my people over."

"I'm sorry to say that I'm glad."

"Don't be. I…ah…what is the word…" He gestured to Uhura and she listened to him before grinning at him widely.

"He says that you do not need to feel sorry, he also is very enthusiastic at the new prospects that are opening. He finds it very possible for us to make a treaty, should we be able to talk as well as we can fight. There are always two layers to every people, Captain."

Jim grinned, teeth flashing and eyes gleaming. "I shall certainly look forward to that particular challenge."

"Do you mind if I make another? We have another fighter, one that we consider to be our best. I would like to see if he can manage to best your Mercenary."

Jim froze, the grin forced to stay on his face, but his mind was racing. Spock might look and act like a mercenary, but Kirk knew that he wasn't. It was very possible that it would lead to some questions should he fight and lose, but if he didn't…what if he didn't?

"I would welcome the challenge." The deep even voice that spoke from behind Jim made Mindos and the Captain turn to stare at the black-clad man, eyes probing on one part, challenging on the other.

"Very good. Actually, would you mind if we had that challenge after your wonderful translator? I believe you have a saying of, 'Ladies first', am I right?"

"That is correct, and I would be honored."

"Very good."

Giotto walked up to them a moment later, sweating profusely but grinning. "Well, that was definitely a workout and a half. Thank you; I enjoyed it."

"You are certainly not the only one. I haven't seen my people as…"

"Enthused," Uhura translated for him quietly.

"In ages. You know how to put on a good show." Mindos grinned at Giotto, clapping him on the shoulder carefully. Giotto grinned, and then they turned to Uhura.

"So, you ready?"

"Beyond ready," Uhura answered, a smile curling up the corners of her mouth.

"Very good. Would you like a moment to get ready?"

"That would be very appreciated, thank you." With that she nodded her head to them and then left, taking a glance at the female standing in the ring waiting for her.

"You know…there's nothing quite like watching two females fight each other."

"Oh, I am so with you on that statement…" Jim said, grinning as he leaned forward. "Uhura's gonna give her a bit of a fight."

"Oh?"

"You better believe it."

"I look forward to seeing it."

"I don't think there's a man alive who doesn't…" McCoy grinned, finishing the last few twists on the bandages that were used to help keep Giotto's ribs steady. The laughter that followed was cut short when Uhura walked forward into the ring. She had traded her dress for pants and a shirt, but had kept her red and black color scheme. The orange alien gave her a smile, both touching hands in the traditional salute of the people before moving into a ready position.

Spock tensed slightly, McCoy grinning at him from over a shoulder, realizing what he had noticed, and then realized what he was doing and his smile dropped. There were only so many things he could take in one day.

Nyota reacted to the straightforward attack with immediate and swift retribution; catching the arm that had launched out in attempt to hit her, she snaked under it to thrust her fist into the alien's diaphragm. The applause was immediate, even from the orange aliens themselves, obviously having expected nothing out of the medium sized female who looked as though she had only moderate muscle definition.

"We might actually be able to do this, and well."

"This is gonna be good…"

"I'm with you on that, Scotty."

"This shall be certainly something to look back on and laugh at later…"

"I hope."

Once again Uhura went with the favored method of fighting back by ducking and weaving in and around various attacks that were made, paying close attention to everything that her opponent, Silvona, attempted to do. Uhura was, in short, learning the way Silvona moved and how to counter it. Soon she was actively fighting back, using her opponent's own mass and fighting technique against her.

"She fights better than you do…" Mindos said with a grin, Giotto ducking his head slightly with a smirk.

"She went to courses specifically aimed for learning how to use that technique. It's Andorian, which is much different than mine."

"Andorian…well, they certainly know how to fight. Now you, what is your technique?"

Spock looked at him, and gave a simple one-word answer: "Vulcan."

"They are pacifists, are they not?"

"They are, but they were warriors. The traditions have not changed. We remember what we were, in order to avoid becoming it again."

"What is wrong with a good fight?"

"Nothing. However, when this 'fight' is leading to the slow destruction of an entire species…"

"Wait a moment; you're saying that you guys almost drove yourselves into extinction?" McCoy asked, looking up at him in shock, the fight temporarily forgotten.

"Indeed."

"Well shit…"

Spock blinked, not sure how to take the sudden exclamation or the look in the Doctor's eyes. It was then that Jim made a loud exclamation and they turned back to look at the fight. Nyota had somehow managed to send her opponent into the stands surrounding the match. "Well, I believe we actually have a winner. And this time, without a free pass." Mindos shot Giotto a small smirk, leaving the chief security officer laughing. Mindos went through his usual speech, and then indicated Spock to enter the ring.

Spock inclined his head to a sweating but grinning Uhura, and she returned the gesture, walking out of the ring and leaping over the barrier with a kind of furious delight. Her opponent met her at the other side and clapped her on the back, sending Uhura forward. They laughed, Nyota joining in as soon as she righted herself.

"Now, honored guests and challengers, the time has come to see whether our might can stand up to the honored Mercenary control. This round is more of a bonus, and then the Captain has agreed to demonstrate his own tactics. We are actually losing." The laughter and grins were instantaneous, and then the man Spock was to be facing stepped into the ring.

"Damn…"

He was taller than they could believe and standing next to the guy made Spock seem like a toothpick. Blue hair sprouted from the top of the behemoth's head that made the crew think of electrical currents racing through one's body, shuddering slightly at the overall effect the man had.

"This could get messy…"

"I just hope that Spock doesn't kill the guy…" Kirk said softly, the others looking at him in shock, and then back at the two who were circling around each other with quiet calm.

Suddenly in an explosion of movement so vicious it was startling, the large brute that hadn't been named launched himself forward, swinging a heavy fist that Spock only barely managed to duck in time, throwing himself out of the way. There was a moment when the only reaction was shock and then Spock retaliated, a sweeping kick that was jumped over, the Vulcan rolling back as he was almost landed on. Everyone was whooping and cheering, watching every move, every attack and counterattack with vicious amusement. In this particular game both combatants knew there was no such thing as mercy.

As the fight began to get more heated, the audience began to realize something. Spock was not the one primarily attacking. Every move the larger alien made was catalogued and picked apart, and then he began to retaliate.

Any doubts that had been left in Jim's mind were promptly sent out the window when Spock managed to bodily flip the man to the ground. They were then jumped on when Spock merely reacted to the man's charge with a single kick to the jaw, and finally spat on when he didn't even bother to hit the alien, simply let the man trip himself as he tried to launch himself at the Vulcan. The laughter was immediate, but Jim couldn't help but be curious. What on Earth had they originally been planning on doing with him?

Finally with a bow and a flourish, as was expected of him, Spock exited the arena and stood next to his captain, looking as suave and elegant as ever.

"Well…remind me not to get on your bad side."

"On the contrary, Doctor, I have no bad side."

The immediate whoop of laughter was instantaneous and they grinned at him.

"Crazy Vulcan…"

"Indeed."

What they failed to miss was the unnamed alien Spock had fought, who was steadily getting angrier.


	8. It

_Apologies for the wait, here's the update, people. Enjoy. Really sorry it's short, but hey, gives me more space to maneuver. _  
...

Kirk stood in the center of the ring with a wide smile on his face and a gleam in his eye. Mindos stood in front of him, his own grin stretching his mouth from side to side.

"Well, Kirk, it shall be interesting to see how this ends."

"I'd totally imagine."

"Well, let's go for it, shall we?

"En garde!" Jim shouted out, falling back into a fighting position. Mindos reacted immediately. Jim fell in and around the questing punches and kicks, his technique not as refined as his men's, but he never stopped smiling, and then he began to laugh. Mindos was surprised, watching the way that the man moved with almost complete and total shock. But he never ceased trying to catch Jim out, and finally Kirk was struck.

The audience leaned forward as Jim curled around his abdomen defensively, and exploded into a cheer when he slashed out, slamming into Mindos' gut with his foot, and rolled away backwards. Mindos reacted simply, continuing to drive Jim back into the corner as he took hard, stomping steps forward. As soon as Jim hit his back into the fence that served as the ring, he dove forward, managing to get behind the alien chief and kick him in the back, sending him into the boundary.

The aliens never stopped cheering, nearly making themselves go hoarse in their joy and love of a good fight.

"We're going to do it. We're actually going to do it." McCoy was disbelieving, his eyebrow rising as he regarded them, watching the way the aliens cheered and applauded, even as their chief was knocked here and there. It was then that he noticed the stiff way Spock was standing. He was staring at something in the ring, and McCoy followed his gaze, and almost gasped. There was that large alien, looking mad enough to spit tacks, staring at their Captain with a kind of intensity that neither of them liked.

Then, in a moment that would be recounted later with nothing more or less than strict and horrible terror, the behemoth charged. He dove into the ring, launching himself at the much smaller human who would have been flattened had Mindos not managed to plant his own fist into his subject's chest. Mindos was brushed aside as though he was a fly, and Jim had one moment to stare up at him before desperately trying to escape. A hand gripped him on his collarbone, and _twisted_, shattering it. Jim let out a pained shout. The aliens were no longer celebrating, their looks murderous as they attempted to throw themselves into the ring and get at the two of them.

They never got the chance. Spock, in a fit of maneuverability and speed, managed to throw himself up and onto the shoulders of several men, running down them, and finally launching himself at the alien with one hand out, and the other poised to retaliate. The alien was never given a chance to blink. One moment he had been standing there, the next he had been sent to the ground, a puncture wound where his jugular vein was, a deep gash up his chest and back, and a bloody knife grasped in one of Spock's hands.

The Mariniors ignored them, instead gathering around the Captain, voices apologetic and worried, McCoy shoving his way through them studiously. He glanced at Spock where he stood frozen over the dead man, before ignoring him, turning to his Captain and friend and beginning to stabilize the break. Mindos crouched next to them, talking to Jim quietly, grinning at him as he noticed the way Jim hadn't broken down, simply grinned shakily, sweat from pain and trauma sliding down his forehead.

His crew gathered around him, Giotto clapping Spock on the back fiercely, a look of grim approval on his face. The Vulcan still did not react.

It was not until they were back on the ship, a protesting Jim being led to the sickbay, and a snarling Leonard cursing him out that Spock reacted. Nyota planted a small kiss just over where his cheek would be and thanked him quietly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. If he had not intervened, she did not wish to think of what could have happened to their Captain. She left, Spock staring after her in shocked surprise.

He retreated to his room to meditate, the knife still clutched in his hand. The people he passed gave him grim nods and a few of the braver ones clapped him on the back. The knife was given appraising glances, the sight of the alien's orange blood treated to glares and snarls. Spock was unsure how to take it.

He finally walked into his room; then, and only then, did he toss the knife to the side, watch it embed itself into the desk, and fall to his knees.  
….

Jim was finally declared fine by McCoy, told to rest easy, and glared at for good measure. Kirk left with a bounce in his step, but worry forefront on his mind. He knew few things about that Vulcan, but he was nearly certain of one thing: Spock had never killed before.

McCoy was in the middle of attempting to sort and organize paperwork when the feeling he got which was oftentimes synonymous to 'Jim's about to get himself into serious shit' began hovering at the edges of his consciousness. He knew better than to ignore that feeling, and with a sigh he chucked the pen to the desk and left the sickbay.

He glared up and down the hallway, debating which way to go, and then remembered the Vulcan. With a groan and a sigh he began his stomping trek down the hallway.

How much did he hate his life; he would never be able to count the ways…

He huffed out a sigh and glared at the doorway of Spock's quarters as he reached them, punching in the code and stepping inside. The sight of a Vulcan curled up on the floor and a Captain sitting over him looking down at him in sympathy, while a hand gripped an arm too hard to be anything but platonic.

"What's going on?"

"He just killed a man."

The realization made McCoy's eyes widen, and he stared down at the man in shock. It was a thought that hadn't occurred to him, that couldn't have occurred to him.

Spock laughed, a wheezing broken sound that made them wince, their eyes reflecting their shock at the sound. "No, no…that is not my problem. What is my problem is much worse. I believe you were right about me, Doctor.

"I liked it. I enjoyed killing him."

The admission seemed to echo, the bitter smile that slid across Spock's face made them hesitate, fear blossoming deep inside them at the admission. He sighed and sat upright.

"We will lose everything by the time this is over." His words were quiet, barely heard, but there all the same. Cryptic and confusing. The feeling of helplessness that came over them was almost immediate.

"No, no we won't. I promised you I'd help, that we wouldn't let you go back, and I meant it. We can do this. We can, I promise you."

Spock's twisted smirk was answer enough.

"Well… I'd say your reaction to liking it is enough to make me consider it a moot point," Doctor McCoy said softly.

"I fail to understand your reasoning."

"You're shook up because of it. You're angry, and you're also scared. I'm sorry if I step onto any Vulcan culture no-no's, but I need to get this out. You're fine. You're okay. You're scared as hell, but that's good. I know you're positive that's not true, but hey. So it is…"

"If you are certain, Doctor…"

"I am. Heh…who knows, there might be hope for you yet…"

"Rather amazing about-face you had there; what's up?"

"Well…at least the man admits to the fact that he's a cold-blooded killer. We don't have to pretend otherwise anymore." The wide grin and the shrug made Kirk laugh. But it was still hidden behind pretense and worry.

They eventually went their separate ways, Spock remaining on his bed, curled up with his back to the wall and his arms around his legs, two piercing black eyes staring at the wall, staring into nothing.

He found it strangely fitting.  
….

The next day the crewmembers he passed remained in a state of euphoria, happy to see him, the word that he had saved the Captain's life spreading. They recognized the good he could do, the fact that he was worth staying, and they were happy to have him there.

Spock found their faith in him, their happiness and greetings, shocking, painful, and confusing. He did not understand any of it. What they could possibly hope to gain from treating him as they were he did not know. He found it shocking that they would go to such lengths to gain something from him, but he was not surprised. He had been used his whole life, short as it had been.

He still wasn't alive now. He was just clockwork.

His eyes closed, nearly walking into a passing crewmember in that moment of weakness. The woman, knowing precisely how a Mercenary was, how they were impossible to catch unawares, was worried for him. She watched after him until he passed out of sight. Should Spock have looked back he would have seen a blonde-haired woman with a blue outfit on that was similar to Uhura's, fringed with black lace. Her hat was less bold though.

Chapel watched him leave and wrung her hands together before sighing. She would never understand Mercenaries.

Spock entered the mess hall, not to eat, but to locate the Captain.

Jim looked up when he noticed the dark shadow that had fallen over him, spinning around automatically, and clasping a hand to his chest when he saw it was just Spock. "Cripes, man, you trying to kill me?"

"If that was the case, you would already be dead."

The quiet, yet honest reply made the rest at the Captain's table laugh, Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and Doctor McCoy. "Pull up a chair, friend!" Sulu said with a grin, pulling one out for him. Spock sat stiffly, but remained calm. Or as calm as he could; he was still unused to such feelings of friendly honesty and the smiles. The people in general, the amount and the way they acted was also worrying, was also terrifying.

He was confused and he was so far out of his comfort zone he was honestly surprised he had not started screaming and throwing himself with the intent to murder at anyone who touched him. He closed his eyes at the realization that he had been contemplating it, and hunched slightly.

"Hey, you alright?"

"I am adequate,." Spock answered. It was a lie, and in more ways than one. He had been feeling slightly strange ever since the match. While this might be accounting simply for the realization that he could kill, it felt more…_physical_ than that. He actually hurt.

"Are you sure?" McCoy asked, and this time he was looking at him with a narrow eyed gaze, searching for something, for some sign of how the Vulcan really was. Spock wanted to hit him, to make the look go away, but he realized belatedly that he was finding it hard to breathe.

"Doctor…I believe…I may not be adequate…after all…"

He fell limp, the men sitting at the table lurching upright in an effort to help him. When McCoy found a damp patch and pulled it away to reveal what looked like green slime, he yelled for them to get him to sickbay.

"Damn Vulcan; doesn't even know when he's hurt or not; hell, just…what the hell? How did you not know?"

"I have not been hurt before. Not like this…" The words were whispered into his ear as he was leaning over to try and help the men get Spock up.

He supposed it was answer enough.

It was only when they managed to get Spock to the sickbay, the nurses ready to help, did he realize that they may just have a little problem.

The stream of violent cursing that left his mouth made them jump. But that was nothing compared to the look on Scotty's face when he pointed to him, indicated for him to follow, and wheeled Spock into a private room. Scotty followed hesitantly, looking around everywhere for a sign of why.

"What precisely is goin' on, Doctor?" the Scot asked, sucking on his teeth when McCoy tore the Vulcan's jacket and shirt off, revealing the mix of flesh and gears underneath.

"…Oh…"


End file.
